


So Not Cute

by CaptainMotgane



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainMotgane/pseuds/CaptainMotgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles about Spain's experiences while raising South Italy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work will be updated sporadically, but I will do my best to get something out every two or three days. I'm afraid that I don't have much time on my hands between school and working on HetaRozario. Hope you like it!

"Romano, please watch your mouth around my boss," Spain scratched the back of his head where a large lump was beginning to form. "I don't think I can take another beating like that."

There was no answer from Romano, however, only the sound of the wooden shutters swinging back and forth with the cold night's wind. Due to his lagging economy, Spain was having a hard time keeping things in check. Even little things like shutters and clothing were becoming too much for him to handle. However, despite his lack of money, he scrounged up whatever he could to keep Romano fed and properly clothed. He just wished that his henchman would be a little more grateful, considering Spain took a beating for him every time.

A tugging at the hem of his pants caused Spain's thoughts to dissipate. He turned around to look at whatever had caused it, thinking it was another mouse that had made its way inside his house. Instead of a mouse, however, he found Romano standing there with a guilty look on his face. He was sure that if it was not so dark, he would have found a bright blush on Romano's face. "What is it, Romano?"

"'m sorry," the little voice caught the wind, and travelled up to Spain's ears. Spain stood still for a moment, looking down at Romano's little chubby cheeks. This had only ever happened on one other occasion, and Romano had ended up attacking him afterwards because he touched his hair curl. Spain was determined not to ruin this rare moment like the last, so he kept his hands off of Romano.

This didn't mean that freaking out and crying was off limits, though.

"You're so cute Romano," Spain spun around on the spot. "You're the cutest little henchman, and you're all mine!" Spain laughed some more, and continued to spin until Romano told him – ever so sweetly – that he was an annoying tomato bastard.

Romano looked down at his feet, then back up at Spain with a worried expression, the moonlight caused his eyes to sparkle. Spain wanted to say something about how cute Romano was, but in fear of angering Romano, he kept quiet. "What is it Romano?"

Romano mumbled something under his breath that Spain couldn't quite make out, so he prompted him to say it again. "I said…" Romano closed his eyes and looked down at the floor, refusing to meet eyes with Spain.

"Romano?"

Instead of pathetically stumbling over his words, Romano tugged at the hem of Spain's pants with his pudgy left hand. "Pick me up."

Romano would never admit it out loud, but he loved it when the Spaniard carried him around. He loved it when Spain showed him the tomato garden, or when he carried him on his shoulders at the beach.

Spain almost squealed in excitement, and lifted Romano up from the floor without another question. He held his henchman away from his chest and spun him around in circles. "My little Romano is so cute when he's embar-"

Romano punched Spain on top of the head, "don't push it, bastard."


	2. Sing

Romano ran through the tomato fields as fast as possible, hoping that the large green stalks were big enough to cover his trail. He ran until he could no longer hear Antonio's voice calling out for him, and when he deemed it safe enough he stopped and dropped onto his backside, digging his feet into the pungent soil beneath him. He wanted to be as far away from Spain as possible. He couldn't take his sickening singing any more.

Romano kicked his soil covered feet and closed his eyes as it rained down on him. "Bastard," he whispered.

"There you are, Romano!"

Romano's eyes flew open at the familiar voice, and he was on his feet before he could even register Spain's face. But, just as he was about to run, a hand wrapped around his forearm and prevented him from doing so.

"You ran away before I could sing for you!" Spain sat down on the soil, completely disregarding his white pants. "Please, Romano?" Spain hiked the chubby Italian into his lap, "if you let me sing to you, I'll let you eat all the tomatoes on the stalks behind me."

Romano's eyes widened at this, but his cheeks burned red despite himself. "Fine, sing if you want, bastard."

_"Como una promesa, eres tu, eres tu_

_Como una manana de verano_

_Como una sonrisa, eres tu, eres tu_

_Asi, asi, eres tu."_

Romano didn't understand the words to the songs Spain sung, but he liked them. He liked the way Spain sung them so passionately, and how beautiful they all sounded coming from his mouth. Romano would never say something so complimentary to Spain, but he was sure that if Grandpa Rome were still around, even he would have fallen in love with Spain's voice.

He was so caught up in Spain's singing, and his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed Spain holding him to his chest and rocking him gently.

_"Toda mi esperanza, eres tu, eres tu_

_Como lluvia fresca en mis manos_

_Como fuerte brisa, eres tu, eres tu_

_Asi, asi, eres tu"_

Romano felt his eyelids getting heavy despite his excitement over the prospect of tomatoes. His eyelids would flutter wildly for a moment, then he would shake his head in another attempt to wake himself up. In the end, it didn't work out for Romano. From the rocking motion, and Spain's gentle voice, he never had a chance.

Romano's eyelids finally closed, and he fell into a gentle slumber in Spain's arms.

_"Eres tu como el agua de mi fuente_

_(Algo asi eres tu)_

_Eres tu el fuego de mi hogar_

_Eres tu como el fuego de mi hoguera_

_Eres tu el trigo de mi pan_

_Eres tu..."_

Spain looked down at Romano and smiled when he realized the small child had fallen fast asleep. He stood up from where he was sitting and used his free arm to brush the loose soil off of his backside, careful not to jostle Romano. "Running around like must have worn you out," Spain whispered to the sleeping child. Spain brushed a loose hair out of the child's face and smiled at the sleepy grunting noise Romano made at being touched.

"You're so cute, Romano."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can listen to the song on youtube (acoustic cover): watch?v=XyNwMi-g0EU


	3. Liar

"Why don't you go and find Feliciano, maybe he'll appreciate you more!" Romano shouted at Spain, storming away from him down the cobbled walkway. He wasn't going to listen to Spain give him another speech about being 'more grateful' or 'more appreciative'. He was perfectly fine living in Austria's house; in fact he was better off. Austria had lots of money, and Spain was poor. He could barely take care of himself.

That was when it struck Romano; Spain could barely take care of himself, yet Spain still managed to give him what he wanted. In fact, he still got clothes, pasta, and all the tomatoes he wanted. He was never without. Yet Romano recalled his little brother crying about how Austria never had good food…

No, damn it. He would still have it better at Austria's house. He would trade places with his brother any day, and it was clear that Spain wouldn't mind the change either.

When Romano found the bridge he frequented when he argued with Spain, he took a seat on the ledge and let his legs swing as he thought about his fight. It wasn't like he was in the wrong or anything; he just didn't feel like working all the time. He was still little, and work was for older countries.

Romano sighed and cradled his face in his hands, looking down into his reflection. It was true, his little brother was so much cuter than him, and nicer too. It was no wonder so many people liked him more. The most Romano could do was complain or whine, he was completely and totally useless.

Romano picked up a broken piece of cobble lying next to him and threw it at his reflection. He couldn't bear looking at his own reflection. He watched as the small ripples distorted his reflection, wishing that when the water settled, he wouldn't look like the same person any longer.

When the water settled, his reflection hadn't changed, but someone else's reflection now joined his. It was Spain, standing behind him with that infuriating smile on his face.

"Romano," Spain sighed happily. "I was so worried that I wouldn't be able to find you."

"Go away," Romano said, turning his head away from Spain defiantly.

Spain, however, chose to disregard Romano's complaints. He threw his legs over the side of the bridge and settled down next to Romano. "The view is really pretty here, isn't it, Romano?" Spain looked at Romano with a smile on his face, "is that why you always come here?"

"I always come here because you piss me off, bastard."

"That's not nice, Romano," Spain said, mouth turning down in a sad smile.

"Well it's true," Romano huffed. "You always piss me off."

Spain was quiet, and for a moment Romano believed that he was finally going to take the hint and leave. But he didn't, instead he inched even closer to Romano on the bridge, "why do I make you so mad, Romano?" Spain picked Romano up, and despite his protests, put him in his lap. "Is it because I do this?" Spain began tickling the small child's sides, smile lighting his face up when Romano couldn't contain his laughter due to the tickling.

"S-S-Stop it you B-bastard," Romano kicked his small feet out. "I'll scream!"

"OK, OK," Spain laughed, stopping his assault on Romano's ribs. "But please, Romano," Spain's voice took on a serious tone. "Tell me why you always get so angry with me? What am I doing wrong?"

"You're doing everything wrong, damn it." Romano tried to wrench himself away from Spain's hold, but he wasn't strong enough.

"I just want you to clean up after yourself, Romano," Spain said. "Why is that such a big deal?"

"It is a big deal because I can't, bastard," Romano looked back down at his reflection. "I try, but I can never do it as good as Feliciano can."

"Roma-"

"He does everything better than me. He cooks better, he cleans better, he's cuter, he manages his portion of the country better, and he's ten time nicer than I'll ever be." Romano only realized he was crying when he saw his tears hitting the water, causing small ripples on the surface. He couldn't stop them. "Everyone likes him more than me, the only reason anyone even bothers with me is because I still have Grandpa Rome's inheritance."

Romano tried to sniffle back his tears, but to no avail. They began falling even more than before. "I know you want him more than me, too."

It got quiet for a long time, and the only thing that could be heard were Romano's soft sobs and Spain's breathing. Spain, however, eventually spoke up. "That's not true, Romano."

"Yeah right," Romano said. "You're only trying to cheer me up now so I'll go home and clean some more."

Without warning Spain leaned over Romano's small form and smiled at his reflection in the water. "You're my special little henchman," Spain laughed. "I wouldn't want anyone but you, Romano."

"Stop it," Romano covered his face.

"It's true," Spain said, pulling Romano's hands away from his face. "Do you want me to tell you why?"

"No," Romano said.

Spain started telling him despite Romano's protests. "I think everything you do is special, even if it isn't right. I think you're a great little cook, I think you're adorable, I think you manage your country with respect, and I think you are the sweetest person I know."

Romano eyes widened, but he didn't speak.

"I would also never use you for your Grandpa's inheritance," Spain laughed. "Look at how poor I am, if I were going to steal your inheritance, I would have done so a long time ago."

Romano rubbed at the fresh tears trying to escape.

"And most of all, Romano," Spain turned the small Italian around to face him. "I love you more than anyone in the world. No one could replace you."

Romano tried his best, but he couldn't hold his tears back any longer. Stupid Spain and his stupid words, lying to him like that. It wasn't like Romano was happy about Spain saying that or anything, when he knew it was all lies. He was just saying that so Romano wouldn't be gloomy anymore, and everything would return to the same way it was.

Yeah, that was it.

Romano gripped the front of Spain's shirt and balled the fabric up in tight fists. He was trying to say something to Spain. Something like 'go away', or 'leave me alone,' or 'liar,' but it wouldn't come out. All Romano could do was sob and cry like a little baby.

Spain hugged Romano tight to his chest and laughed. "You really do look like a little tomato when you get embarrassed."

"Bastard," Romano managed through his tears.


	4. Laundry

"Please, Romano?"

"No, I'm too damn little to be doing my own laundry."

"You're not like this when you have to wash your own sheets after yo-"

Romano's face heated up instantly at Spain's words, "OK, fine, I'll do the damn laundry as long as you shut up!"

"Yes," Spain shouted cheerfully, "thank you, Romano."

"I'm not doing this for you," Romano spat as he began making his way down the hall toward the laundry room. Even if he didn't like doing the laundry, he was glad it gave him a brief reprieve from Spain's hovering. If it meant avoiding the Spaniard, he would do it.

When Romano reached the room he pulled a stool up to the washer so he could reach it. He was still too short to get the clothes and the sheets into the top; he was growing, but not that much. And, being the stubborn child he was, decided against asking Spain for assistance.

Romano picked up a bundle of sheets and threw them into the washer, and when he had that done, he stepped back down off of the stool to retrieve Spain's shirts that needed washing. Romano picked them up and balled them up haphazardly in his hands - much like he had done with the sheets.

He held them close as he stepped onto the stool, but doing so gave him a huge whiff of Spain. Out loud Romano said 'nasty' but inside, he said 'nice'. It was Spain's scent, the scent he had grown used to over the years; so earthy and natural from spending so many long days in the tomato fields.

Romano gave in and breathed in deep, just once. He always smelled Spain, but the smell was concentrated on the shirts. It was nice.

"So cute," Romano heard from behind him.

Romano whipped his head around, only to see Spain peeking in from around the door frame. He was trying to hide, but his idiocy wouldn't let him go unnoticed by the little Italian.

To hide his embarrassment, Romano got angry, as he always had. He threw Spain's clothes in the washer, dropped the lid, stepped off of the stool, and throttled Spain.

Spain let out a heavy 'oomph' and fell to the ground in a heap with Romano on top of him, punching his chest. His hands were small, as was his frame, but that didn't mean he didn't have any kind of strength. Spain learned that the hard way.

After a heavy beating dealt by Romano, Spain retreated to his bedroom with multiple injuries. However, these injuries were not all for naught as he still had a clear mental image of Romano smelling his clothes.

Spain sighed happily.


End file.
